


From Now On

by idra



Series: 13 Days of Christmas (2017) [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Getting Together, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, M/M, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 11:59:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13123278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idra/pseuds/idra
Summary: Steve really doesn't like Christmas.  Until he gets three visitors in the night.





	From Now On

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna be honest. I love this. I love the trope of using A Christmas Carol. I love the idea of using someone most people don't for the Scrooge role. Sarah Rogers, Peggy Carter, and Howard Stark are the ghosts of Christmas' past, present, and future respectively.
> 
> This was for Day 9. Prompt was (unsurprisingly) Scrooge/Grinch. I chose Scrooge, obviously.
> 
> Enjoy!

Steve slams the door as he enters his apartment. He’s so sick of Christmas! Everywhere he looks, it’s Christmas being shoved down his throat. He’s just glad the next day is actually Christmas, so he won’t have to deal with it much longer. He frowns when he sees Christmas lights hung across his window. “What the fuck. Sam, I told you, no Christmas!” 

Tony steps out of the kitchen, one eyebrow raised. “I put them up. I thought you might need a little Christmas cheer.” 

Steve snarls and walks over, yanking the lights down and throwing them to the floor. “No fucking Christmas in my apartment! I’m so fucking tired of everyone thinking they know what I need!” 

Taking a step back, Tony nods. “Okay. I’ll head out. Sorry.”

Steve follows him to the door, slamming it shut again. He flops down on the couch, closing his eyes. He cannot stand Christmas and he’s so done. He shoves off the couch and goes to take a shower then he goes to bed. He might just decide to sleep through the next day and then he won’t have to deal with Christmas at all.

He startles awake and looks around, blinking when he sees his mother standing at the foot of his bed. “Mom?” He sits up, glancing at the clock, noting that it’s just midnight. “What... How...” 

“Oh, Stevie.” Sarah shakes her head. “I get to show you Christmas past.” 

“This isn’t a movie or a book. What’s going on?” 

“You know the story, Stevie. Three ghosts will visit you. Sadly, you’ll recognize all of us. Come on, Stevie.” Sarah holds her hand out and Steve frowns, but takes her hand. The world tilts and he’s suddenly back in a shabby little apartment, and he can hear his mom singing Christmas carols. He frowns and spots himself, laying on the couch, lips tinged faint blue. He’s about ten years old and if he remembers right, he’d gotten pneumonia after he and Bucky had been outside, playing in snow.

He breathes in a sharp breath when the door opens up and Bucky comes bouncing in, carrying a small tree with ribbons and bells, a big star on top. “Merry Christmas, Stevie! Mom and Dad sent me over with a tree for you and Mrs. Rogers.” 

“James!” Sarah comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Thank your parents for us.” She gives Bucky a hug. “Do you have time to sit with Stevie?” 

“Yeah. We did our presents already. I just have to be home by dinner time.” Bucky bounces over to the couch as Sarah puts the tree in the window. Bucky flops down, snuggling up to Steve’s side. “How do you feel?” 

“Fine,” Steve wheezes out, patting Bucky’s back. “I have somethin’ for you.” 

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Stevie!” Bucky sits up though and smiles. “I’ll get it, then I can give you yours.”

Steve sits up and starts to get to his feet, only to be pushed back down. “Don’t you dare, Steven!” Sarah says, frowning at him. Steve whines, but sits back down, gasping for air. “The present for you is under his bed.” 

“Mo-om, you’re not supposed to tell him.” 

“Stevie,” Bucky chastises him before he runs off to Steve’s room. He comes back with two large packages. “Mrs. Rogers, here’s for you.”

“Thank you for getting it.” 

Steve beams as they open up their packages. It’s not much, just a drawing for Bucky of Coney Island. It was their favourite place to go together when Steve was feeling well enough. For Sarah, a painting of Steve and his father, drawn from a faded picture his mother had on the wall.

The real Steve turns away from the scene remembering how happy he’d been to give his mother and Bucky something that meant so much to both of them. It was one of his best memories. “Why are you showing me this?” 

“Because, you have to remember what made Christmas special.” Sarah reaches out, and just as she had when he was little, she strokes his hair. “Stevie, this isn’t you. Remember the good times,” she says before she pushes him back. He falls, reaching to try to grab onto something, but he just keeps falling.

With a startled oomph, he sits up, breathing hard as he looks around. He’s on the floor of his bedroom. Wiping a hand across his face, he realizes he’d been dreaming. “Holy shit, that was... vivid.” He stands up, then freezes when he sees Peggy laying on his bed. “I...” 

“Hello, Steve. You look... You look sad.”

Steve swallows hard, staring at his first love. “You’re dead. You died.” 

“I know. It’s a pity, but, you know, life is what happens while you’re making other plans.” She sits up and slides off the bed, hugging Steve. 

“You must be the ghost of Christmas present,” Steve says, arms at his side. “There’s nothing you can show me...” 

“Don’t be so sure,” she says as the world fades out. It fades back in and Steve closes to his eyes to get his balance back. He looks around, a bit surprised to be in Tony’s workshop. 

He glances over, laughing a little at Dum-E and You, both decorated with tinsel and ornaments. Then he spots Butterfingers hanging the broken string of lights from his apartment around the desk. His heart breaks a little at how angry he’d gotten. He hadn’t meant to take his anger out on Tony, but it had just happened. 

He turns when the doors to the workshop open and Pepper clips her way through the room. “Anthony Edward Stark! How dare you!” 

“Heya Pep! My Pepperpot!” Tony wobbles into view and Steve flinches at the sight of the nearly empty whiskey bottle in his hand. He knows it was full, remembers seeing it on a shelf and Tony telling him he kept it to remind himself that he was strong enough not to drink. “How’ya doin?” 

“Fuck,” Pepper swears under her breath as she makes her way to Tony’s side. “Jarvis, please get Happy up here. I need his help pouring our lush of a boss into bed.” 

“Nope! Nope, nope nope! Cancel that order, J-man! I gotta work on the suits. ‘T’s all I’m good for. Can’t even convince my friend to celebrate. He hates me, Pep. Hates me! All ‘cause I put up some lights. I din’t know!” 

Pepper sighs and looks up before she hooks her arm around Tony’s waist. “Steve doesn’t hate you, Tony. He must just hate Christmas.” She glances up as Happy comes into the workshop. “Can you help?” 

“Of course, Pepper.” Happy lifts Tony up and the world under Steve’s feet shift. 

He looks around and spots Sam and Natasha sitting together with Clint and Bruce. “Merry Christmas,” Sam says, shaking his head. “I can’t believe how...”

“I know,” Natasha says, rubbing a hand up and down Sam’s back. “I don’t know why Steve is...” She leans against Clint.

Clint hugs her, glancing at Bruce. “Any clue what set him off?” 

“No. Bucky?” 

“Hasn’t been seen or heard from,” Sam says. “Pretty sure he’s still in Wakanda. He’s not ready to be in the world.” 

“Well, here’s to friends who don’t seem to care about their friendships,” Clint says, raising a glass of beer. The rest of the table toasts and takes a drink, then they move on to another topic.

Steve turns to look at Peggy. “Don’t they understand?” 

“How could they, Steve? You haven’t told them why you don’t want to celebrate Christmas. You just... tell them no Christmas and expect them to understand. You’re being an idiot and you need to talk to your friends.” With that, she pulls back and Steve braces for the punch, but he never feels it.

This time he opens his eyes and he shudders a little, worried about who is going to be standing over him. He’s surprised though, to see Howard there. He gets to his feet and holds out his hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

Howard chuckles. “Awfully in a hurry to see the future aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, well. The less time I spend with you, the better.”

Howard snorts. “I’m so scared.” He takes Steve’s hand and they suddenly appear in a cemetery. “Well, here we are.” 

“Where are we and when are we?” 

“Christmas Day, 2030. Cypress Hills Cemetery. Brooklyn. Your choice.” Howard gestures to a grave up on the hill and Steve starts up the hill. He stops when he sees himself-- looking virtually the same, maybe a few gray hairs, a few lines, but he’s barely aged. He’s sitting at the graveside, hunched over.

“Should’ve listened to you, Stark. It’s my fault. All our friends, everyone we know... They’re all gone and it’s my fault. Bruce and Thor left the galaxy. They’re the only ones alive.” Steve leans over more. “I killed them. I killed everyone.” 

Steve turns to Howard. “What happened?” 

“Good becomes great; bad becomes worse. The strong man who has known power all his life, may lose respect for that power, but a weak man knows the value of strength, and knows compassion.” Howard cocks his head to the side and smirks. “You forgot what the weakness felt like. You forgot compassion. You forgot to stay who you were, a good man. You became everything we dreaded-- a power hungry, angry, too powerful for his own good person.”

Steve rears back, punching Howard hard enough to knock him into an empty grave. “Fuck you, Stark. I will never become that!” 

Howard laughs, the sound becoming more and more menacing as Howard rises from the grave. “This is who you’ll become.” He gestures to the gravestones all around them, the names of the Avenger team on each gravestone. “This is what will become of your beloved team, Steve. You should’ve stayed in the ice,” Howard says, flicking his hand at Steve. A wave of fire comes at Steve and he turns away, only to realize he’s back in his bedroom, tangled in his sheets. 

He lays back down, breathing heavily. He closes his eyes and for the first time since he’d woken up from the ice, sobs for all he’s lost. So many friends, so many lives already lost. He can’t lose anyone else.

He pushes himself out of bed, looking at the time. It’s only six in the morning and Steve nods to himself. He heads for his second bedroom, grabbing the paintings he’d been working on for the last year. He double checks to make sure they’re in good shape before he wraps them hastily in brown paper, tying them off with string. He laughs a little, knowing that’s exactly how he had wrapped the gifts for his mother and Bucky so many years ago. He loads them carefully onto the back of his motorcycle and heads first for the tower. “Jarvis,” he says as he gets in the elevator. “Has Tony been drinking yet?” 

“No, Captain. He’s just staring at the bottle. May I ask how you were aware of his almost slip?” 

“I... I lost my temper with him yesterday. I had a feeling it would have an adverse reaction on Tony. May I go see him?” Steve waits patiently for the elevator to begin rising. He smiles. “Thank you, Jarvis.” 

“You owe sir an apology.” 

“I’m here to give him one,” Steve says, holding up the canvas he’s carried onto the elevator. A few more seconds pass and Steve is exiting the elevator. He finds Dum-E, You, and Butterfinger in much the same position he’d seen them in his dream-slash-nightmare. “Tony?” 

“Capsicle. What can I do for you?” Tony turns away from the shelves and avoids looking at Steve.

“I owed you an apology and an explanation. “I’m sorry I yelled and lost my temper. I have reasons for why I’m not a big fan of Christmas, but you were just trying to help. I know that now. I don’t expect you to accept my apology, but I am sorry.”

“Why do you hate me so much?” 

“Tony...” Steve sets his present for Tony aside and crosses the room, cupping Tony’s face between his palms. “I don’t hate you. I hate Christmas. I didn’t always. I used to love it. But since I’ve been out of the ice...” Steve takes a deep breath. “I owe you this. Since I’ve been out of the ice, everyone I knew has been dead. Peggy has since died and she was... she only remembered me half the time. Then I got Bucky back and I thought I’d have that little bit of my past back. Only Bucky wasn’t really Bucky and he doesn’t want anything to do with the real world. So I tried to suck it up. But we came so close to imploding as a team... Honestly Tony, if you hadn’t gone the extra five hundred miles to pull me back from losing myself... I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t have Bucky as much as I do. I...” Steve bites his lip. “I think I’m in love with you. And I’ll be honest, the thought that you could never love me back? The thought that Bucky wanted nothing to do with me? Bruce, Clint, Natasha-- them all being gone? Between all of that and the commercialism of the holiday and I just couldn’t.” Ducking his head, Steve gestures back to where he’d propped up the painting. “I’d already made everyone presents. That one is yours.” 

“You’re in love with me?” Tony smiles a little. “Really?” 

“Yes, really. Do you want your Christmas present?” 

“I’d love it.” Tony slides off his stool and bounds over to his present. He rips off the brown paper, eyes widening. “Steve...” 

Steve moves up behind him, one arm sliding around his waist. “It’s what I think of when I think of you.” He glances down at the painting, judging it with an artist’s eye. It’s Tony, standing in the middle of the workshop. The arc reactor glows brightly, painting the scene with a light blue glow. Dum-E is off to one side, wearing his dunce cap, while You and Butterfingers are hard at work. There’s a glowing yellow-greenish cloud, meant to signify Jarvis, but Steve’s not sure that’s clear enough. The rest of the workshop is painstakingly detailed and as accurately messy as he could manage it. He steps back, biting at his lip, waiting for Tony to say something. 

A few more minutes and Tony turns, throwing himself at Steve. He kisses him hungrily, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck. “It’s gorgeous, beautiful. I cannot believe you managed to get Jarvis in the picture. It’s... It’s everything, Steve!” Tony punctuates his words with kisses, pulling back after a moment. “I love it and I love you. I’m sorry I upset you by putting up the lights. I should’ve asked. I shouldn’t have just done it.”

“It’s okay Tony. You were trying to brighten up my apartment. Lord knows it needs it.” Steve beams and kisses Tony again. “Let’s go make breakfast. Then we can see if Sam is around maybe? Go get some Chinese?” 

“I like that. J, where should we hang our Christmas present?” 

“Captain, thank you for the painting. From what I can gleam, it is excellently done. Sir, perhaps you should hang it in your living room. Maybe if it is there, you can be there more as well.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Overprotective AIs. Okay. When the holiday is over, let’s have Happy hang it up in the living room.” He takes Steve’s hand and leads him on to the elevator. “I don’t know what kind of stuff I have for breakfast. Dum-E usually just makes me a shake.” 

“We’ll figure something out.” Steve wrinkles his nose. “Did you have any plans today?” 

“Eh. There’s a Christmas party thing for SI, but I’ll skip it.” 

“Can I be your date?” Steve asks as the elevator doors open, letting them out into the penthouse. “I don’t want you in trouble with Pepper.” 

Tony makes a face, then smiles. “Can I buy you a suit?” 

“There’s no place open right now. But... I have my old uniform.” 

“Are you talking the Cap uniform or your dress military uniform?”

“Dress.” Steve smiles. “What do you say?” 

“Yes. Oh god, yes.” Tony nods. “Then we can contact Sam and see if he wants to go for Chinese after?” 

“Perfect.” Steve kisses Tony again before he heads into the kitchen.

Later that evening, Tony and Steve, dressed up as they came straight from the party, meet up with Sam at the Chinese place. Tony is surprised to see Bruce, Clint, and Natasha there as well. Steve, well, Steve had expected it. He smiles and waves at everyone, telling them what he’d told Tony earlier in the day. Natasha hugs him, Clint claps him on the back. Bruce and he shake hands, Bruce ducking his head. Sam hugs him hard. “You can talk to me about this stuff.” 

“I felt like I shouldn’t bring anyone else down with me.” Steve hugs Sam back, clapping his shoulders. “I’m sorry. It was stupid of me. Now, I have gifts for all of you.”

Sam pulls back, frowning. “How’d you know the others were going to be here?” 

“Just a feeling I had.” Steve hooks his hand through Tony’s and smiles. During their lunch together, he’d told Tony about his dream-slash-nightmare. He’d also told Tony about punching Howard in his dream and Tony had laughed so hard Steve had worried he’d hurt himself.

Tony grins. “Well, you were right. Hand out the presents.” 

Steve sticks his tongue out, handing out paintings to each member of the team. Clint opens his first, eyes snapping up to Steve’s. “My kids. It’s... It’s perfect, man. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Steve says, hugging Clint. “I thought... since you can’t see them in person, you could at least see a painting of them.” He turns to Natasha, gesturing for her to open her present. She does, laughing as she sees the picture. She turns it to show the picture of her in the middle of a fight. Steve had enjoyed the challenge of creating her graceful lines, making the painting look like she’s in motion.

“Steve, this is gorgeous. You’re an incredible artist.” Natasha hugs him, kissing his cheek. “Thank you. I can’t wait to hang this up.” 

Steve grins. “Glad you like it. Bruce?” 

“Should I be worried?” 

“Brucie, trust me. Whatever Steve paints, he paints because he sees the beauty in it.” Tony pats the brown paper. “Open this up.”

Bruce makes a face, but opens the package up. He stares at the picture of himself and Betty, the Hulk standing over them protectively. “Steve...” He lets out a shaky breath. “Why.... Why Betty? And why have the Hulk protecting us?” 

“Because Hulk protects the people he loves. Do you honestly think he wouldn’t take over completely if he didn’t care about you? I’ve noticed he calls you puny and weak. He says that because he feels like he needs to watch your back. I remember you talking once about how he protected Betty from a thunderstorm. You and he both love her, so it made sense to have him protecting you both.” Steve shrugs. “Besides, both sides of you are beautiful in their own way.”

“Thank you, Steve.” Bruce hugs him tightly and lets out another shaky breath. 

Steve turns to Sam. “I... I didn’t know what to paint for you. I went on instinct.” 

Sam smiles and carefully opens the brown paper. He stares at the painting that’s in four basic parts, blending together in the middle. The first square shows Sam and his mom, smiling for a camera. The second is Sam, Natasha, and Steve, arms around each other as they laugh at something. Third is Sam and Riley. The last is from the only picture Sam has of himself, Riley and his mom. In the middle picture, it’s the team, all fight ready. “Steve man... You’re killing me.” Sam pulls Steve into a hug. “Thank you. It’s... It’s perfect.” 

Steve smiles and hugs Sam back. “I just wanted all of you to know how much I care about you. I might not be the biggest fan of Christmas, but I love you guys and I wanted to show it.” Steve smiles crookedly, then glances over when a waitress approaches. “We’re not ready to order,” he says apologetically. “Can you give us another twenty?” 

She nods and backs out. Steve gestures for everyone to sit, grabbing a chair for himself and one for Tony. “I think this should be our Christmas tradition.” 

Tony leans over and kisses him. “Yeah. It kind of makes for the perfect Christmas.”

The other members of the team all agree and start looking at their menus. Steve glances around, then blinks when he sees ghostly figures standing behind the table, watching with smiles on their faces. He smiles back and focuses on his menu. He won’t let that future become his own. He’s going to take care of his team, if it’s the last thing he does.


End file.
